"
His pursuers now turned to meet their companions. Sam, sliding
silently down the surface of the rock, let himself quietly into his
skiff, cast loose the fastening, and abandoned himself to the rapid
current, which in that place runs like a mill stream, and soon
swept him off from the neighborhood. It was not, however, until he
had drifted a great distance that he ventured to ply his oars, when
he made his skiff dart like an arrow through the strait of Hell
Gate, never heeding the danger of Pot, Frying Pan, nor Hog's Back
itself, nor did he feel himself thoroughly secure until safely
nestled in bed in the cockloft of the ancient farmhouse of the
Suydams.
Here the worthy Peechy Prauw paused to take breath, and to take a
sip of the gossip tankard that stood at his elbow. His auditors
remained with open mouths and outstretched necks, gaping like a
nest of swallows for an additional mouthful.
"And is that all?" exclaimed the half-pay officer.
"That's all that belongs to the story," said Peechy Prauw.
"And did Sam never find out what was buried by the red-caps?" said
Wolfert eagerly, whose mind was haunted by nothing but ingots and
doubloons.
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